


i've gotten good with an excuse

by fantasy_spoilers8



Series: sight of the sun [7]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Established Relationship, Henry Laurens' A+ Parenting, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Panic Attacks, Party, Past Child Abuse, Poor John, Songfic, Sort Of, Texting, Touch Aversion, Trans Alexander Hamilton, Trans Angelica Schuyler, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Tuxedos, the schuylers being awesome badasses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-16 16:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16957101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantasy_spoilers8/pseuds/fantasy_spoilers8
Summary: John finally felt he was outside of his father's reach. But when he gets an email telling him he needs to attend a dinner to uphold his father's reputation, he feels lost all over again.-Or, the one where Alex buys John a pride bracelet, and John meets the Schuyler Sisters.





	1. What Do I Stand For?

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in May of Alex and John's junior year of college. The only significant offscreen event that took place before this is that John worked up the courage to change his major from Law to a double major in Art and Biology. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Alexander pushed the door of the café open and shivered as he was met with a blast of cold air.

Inside, a girl in a pink tank top dramatically sighed at the relief she felt from the air conditioning. Alexander rolled his eyes. It wasn’t even that hot outside. Why did everyone think they needed to max out their air conditioners?

He pulled his BARTLET FOR AMERICA sweatshirt out of his messenger bag and threw it over his head. Everyone inside the café looked at him like he was crazy, but he ignored them.

Alex ordered his and John’s coffees at the counter and sat down at their usual corner table.

He scraped a few pesky stray hairs off his neck and redid the bun on top of his head. He grinned a little as he realized that at this point, he passed even with his hair like this.

He pulled his laptop out of his bag and booted it up. The screen turned on painfully slowly and the fans went on almost immediately. He sighed. John had been pestering him for ages to get a better laptop, but he hadn’t thought it was worth it.

He impatiently shoved his laptop back in his bag and pulled out his phone.

When in doubt, he always told John, go on twitter.

Sure enough, it barely took him a minute to find an asshat to fight.

Alexander cracked his knuckles and started to work.

 

**Patrick Henry @inflated_hyperbole_ftw**

Libtards like saying the military is useless. But let me ask you this: who will you be crying to when ragheads start outnumbering us?

 

**Alexander Hamilton @adothamster**

@inflated_hyperbole_ftwDo you actually think before you tweet something, or do you prefer to vomit onto social media to make us all suffer?  (1/35)

 

**Alexander Hamilton @adothamster**

@inflated_hyperbole_ftw First off, who the fuck cares what the majority race is in this country? Are minorities *gasp* treated like shit or something?? (2/35)

 

**Alexander Hamilton @adothamster**

@inflated_hyperbole_ftw “I like the military, so how about i convince people it’s good by acting like a fucking asshole?” (3/35)

 

**Alexander Hamilton @adothamster**

@inflated_hyperbole_ftw I don’t even know how to begin to dissect this complete idiocy. (4/35)

 

**Alexander Hamilton @adothamster**

@inflated_hyperbole_ftw Oh wait. I do. Let’s begin. (5/35)

 

**Alexander Hamilton @adothamster**

@inflated_hyperbole_ftw On one hand, the government puts WAY too much money into the military, more than the next seven countries combined. (6/35)

 

**Alexander Hamilton @adothamster**

@inflated_hyperbole_ftw On the other, redneck white boys with too many guns are much more dangerous than any Muslim person you see on the street. (7/35)

 

**Alexander Hamilton @adothamster**

@inflated_hyperbole_ftw And another thing-

 

 

“Alex, hey!”

Alexander looked up from his phone and saw John grinning at him.

Immediately, he felt the tension coiled in his body drain away.

John’s curly hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and his freckles looked stark against his flushed skin. John had on an army green tank top that read ~~TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA~~ TURTLE next to a cartoon of a turtle that very much looked like it would rather be doing something else. The low-cut shirt generously showed off the muscles in John’s arms, and Alex absolutely did _not_ spend longer than he should ogling them.

He switched off his phone and smiled at his boyfriend. “Hey, John.”

John leaned down to give him a kiss and then plopped into the seat opposite him.

“What were you up to now?” John asked, a smirk on his lips. “You looked like you were going to burn a hole in that screen with your eyes.”

Alex laughed. “I was pretty close to, if I’m being honest. There was this guy on twitter being a _complete and utter-”_

“Order for Alexander?” the barista called from the counter.

Alex started to get up. “That’s our coffees. I’ll be back in a minute, babe.”

John waved him off and Alexander went over to the counter with a spring in his step.

Alex grabbed the coffees, and after a moment of deliberation, bought a couple of croissants for good measure.

He made his way back to the table with everything balanced precariously in his arms. He almost dropped John’s latte a couple of times, but finally reached John, victorious.

He sat down and opened his mouth to make some quip about his balancing skills when he saw John’s face.

John was staring at his phone, worrying at his lip like he wasn’t aware he was doing it. His shoulders were caving inwards, his leg bouncing nervously, and he was looking at the screen with a strangely imperceptible expression on his face.

Was that confusion? Maybe anger?

No, it was more like…was that dread?

John looked up, and Alexander suddenly realized what emotion was on his face.

Fear.

John was terrified.

Alexander reached out to touch John’s hand that was resting on the table. As soon as his fingertips made contact, John flinched and pulled his arm away. Wide-eyed, John opened his mouth to apologize.

“Honey, you know you don’t have to apologize for anything,” Alexander sighed.

Tears threatened to spill down John’s cheeks and his eyes darted around nervously, focusing on everything but Alex’s face.

“Look at me?” Alex asked tentatively.

John stared at the coffee cup in front of him like he was trying to will it into bursting into flames, the muscles in his jaw working.

Alexander’s heart sank. He knew only one person made his boyfriend react this way.

He was suddenly filled with anger. Not at John, never at John, but at Henry Laurens for not being able to _mind his own fucking business for once in his miserable life._

“I’ll kill him,” Alexander snarled.

John let out a humorless chuckle. “No you won’t.” He halfheartedly wiped at his eyes. “How did you even know it was him?”

“Your face,” Alex answered honestly.

John let out another one of those faked, emotionless laughs that Alexander detested more than anything.

“So,” Alex began hesitantly, half looking for an answer to his questions and half trying to fill up the silence. “What does he want this time? Is it just normal amounts of asshole-ery? Did he say something about your siblings? Does he want you to do something for him? Has he gotten in a pissy mood for the umpteenth time about you changing your major? Is it-”

“Alex,” John interrupted.

Alex deflated. “I’m sorry, I’m just…” He gestured vaguely. “I want to help.”

John grimaced. “You really can’t,”

Alex opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, John shoved his phone across the table.

“You can read it if you want,” John said despondently.

Alex picked up the phone and started to read the email.

_Dear Jack,_

_This Sunday evening, I am expected at an extremely elite dinner hosted by the senator of New York. He is a very old friend of mine, and greatly looks forward to both my attendance and yours._

_I will send a car to your dormitory at 6:00 PM sharp. Be punctual. I’ll have an appropriate suit sent over with the car._

_This would be a wonderful opportunity for you to meet some eligible young women, Jack._

_Do not try and evade this event, or there will be consequences._

_Dad_

 

Alexander could barely read the last word with how much his hands were shaking from anger.

He forced himself to calm down enough to speak to John.

“You sure you don’t want me to kill him?” he said, trying to lighten the mood, if only marginally. “Herc knows some people that could take care of him like _that_.”

John gave him the first genuine smile since they sat down, and Alexander could feel himself relaxing.

“You know,” Alexander said, “you don’t have to go. He already pulled your college funding when you changed majors, there’s nothing else he can do to you. He’s just being an ass when he says ‘consequences.’” Alexander tried to put on a funny voice on the last word, and he smiled when it brought back just a little of the light in John’s eyes.

But just as quickly as it had come, it faded away into the darkness there.

“I do have to go,” John said, shoving his chin into his hands. “He can keep my siblings away from me. And if I don’t go, he can’t get to me anymore, but he might take it out on them. I can’t let that happen.”

Alexander frowned. “Are you sure?”

John forced a laugh. “Yeah, I mean, what’s one more night of pretending to be a straight, high-class, Catholic Republican? I know how to do it.”

“That doesn’t mean you should have to, cariño. It isn’t fair.”

At that, John sat up straight and looked Alexander straight in the eye. “Alex, you know as well as anyone that _fair_ doesn’t apply to anything real. We don’t get what we deserve, things just happen. And you have to deal as well as you can.”

Alexander chewed at his lip. Sure, he believed that about his own life. But not about _John’s_ life. Even though he could hear the bias behind it, he firmly believed that John was different. John deserved everything. And Alexander would do whatever he could to make sure he got it.

 

* * *

 

The day before the dinner, a package was delivered to Lafayette’s apartment. Alexander picked it up gratefully, and made his way over to John’s.

He knocked _shave and a haircut, two bits_ on John’s door and waited for him to answer.

John opened the door with heavy-lidded eyes. John had been in hibernation mode for the past few days, only coming out of his dorm when he had class. For the most part, Alex had been trying to help John through his wallowing with cheesy movies and lots of soft blankets. But today, Alexander was sure he had something that would make his boyfriend feel- not better, but at least stronger.

“Hey, Alex,” John said. Alexander tried not to think about how hoarse his voice sounded from crying.

He lifted up the small box. “I’ve got something for you!”

He pushed past John and threw himself down onto John’s bed, landing face-first into John’s pillow with an _oof_. A laughed ripped its way out of John’s throat, seemingly against his will.

Instead of throwing himself on the bed next to Alexander like he normally would, John went over to the desk on the other side of the room. He turned the desk chair around so he would be facing Alexander and tentatively sat down, his hands in his lap.

In this past week, John had become completely averse to all forms of touching, from everyone, but especially from Alexander. Alex knew not to take it personally. He knew that this was an effect contact from Henry Laurens always had on John.

He tried not to think about why John might be so uncomfortable with people putting their hands on him, and failed miserably.

Alexander cleared his throat in an attempt to lessen the thick tension in the room. He ripped open the tape on the box and pulled out a small object wrapped in bubble wrap.

John leaned forward and put his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. “Whatcha got there?”

After wrestling with the bubble wrap for a moment, Alex pulled it out triumphantly.

“Is that…”

“Yeah, it is.”

Alex had bought John two bracelets with wooden beads, connected by a clasp on one end. It was hard to recognize, but you could see the colors of the rainbow on one and the colors of the asexual flag on the other. If you weren’t looking for them, they would just look like randomly colored bracelets. But to anyone who knew, they were there.

John looked lost for words. “Alex…”

“I thought you could wear it tomorrow night,” Alex said, “to remind yourself of who you are and...and everything you’ve accomplished.”

John huffed and ducked his head. “Jesus, Alex. I can only handle so many crying spells in a week.”

Alex froze. The bracelet was making John upset? He thought he was doing the right thing by trying to get John something to ground him, some thoughtful gift that would make John know just how much Alex loved him and just how independent he was from his father. But maybe it was too much. Alexander would definitely understand if John didn’t want it. _Stupid stupid stupid stupid…_

“Do- do you not like it?” Alex choked out.

“What?” John said, picking his head up.

“I mean, I totally get it if you don’t want it, you don’t _have_ to wear it or anything, I just thought it would be nice to get you something that represented, well, _you,_ because you’re wonderful, and I don’t ever want you to forget that, but I understand if you don’t like it, it’s kind of a crappy bracelet anyway-”

“ _Alex!”_

Alexander’s voice died down and he looked back at John in his chair. John made as if to get up and go over to him, but stopped himself at the last second and sat back down.

“I _love it,_  Alexander,” John said slowly.

“R-really?”

“Of course I do. It’s incredibly thoughtful, and I really think it’ll help remind me of who I am outside of all that bullshit.”

Alex collapsed back down onto the bed. “Oh, thank god.”

John laughed, really laughed, and Alexander thought it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be updating this very soon with a chapter about the events at the dinner. Comment if you liked it, hated it, want to keyboard smash, or if you think you've guessed what will happen.
> 
> Hint: I wonder who the senator of New York might be...


	2. This is It, Boys, This is War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dinner at the house of Senator...what was his name, again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I projecting my own music tastes onto John? Definitely not.

The car pulled up in front of John’s dorm at exactly 6:00. He couldn’t say he was surprised.

The family driver, dressed in a suit that probably cost twice Alex’s monthly rent, stepped out of the car. John had known him his whole life, but had never learned his name. He had what was presumably John’s suit laid over his arm, wrapped in plastic like it came fresh from the dry cleaners.

“Mr. Laurens,” he said, handing John the suit.

“Thanks,” John said, averting his eyes.

John went back into his dorm to change into the tuxedo. He eyed the bracelets Alexander had got him lying on his nightstand, and a small grin made its way across his face. He rolled them on his left wrist, and they fit like they were molded to the exact shape of his arm. _Don’t worry_ , they seemed to say. _I won’t be going anywhere, even if you paid me._

That voice sounded suspiciously like Alexander. It was a nice change from the usual voices John heard.

He went into the bathroom with the suit, not bothering to close the door behind him, as his roommate was at the library. John pointedly stared at the knob on the cabinet as he undressed so he wouldn’t have to look at himself. Once he got the shirt and pants on, he knew he had to look into the mirror.

It took a few tries, but eventually muscle memory kicked in and he was able to tie the bow tie, perhaps a bit more ferociously than he usually did it. John knew that he wasn’t helping anybody by being so furious that he couldn’t see straight. But hey, it was better than being so depressed that he couldn’t get out of bed. Right?

John stomped out of the bathroom, trying in vain to calm himself down. He started to make his way out the door when he realized he’d forgotten his keys. John went back over to his desk to get them, and accidentally caught sight of himself in the mirror that was hanging on the wall.

His eyebrows were furrowed, his mouth set in a line. Fire was blazing in his eyes.

With the suit and his hair pulled back, he looked just like his father.

A shiver of revulsion ran through his body. He jerked away from the mirror, accidentally knocking it to the ground. It smashed beyond recognition at his feet with an earsplitting crash.

John just stood there, numb, and stupidly wished that Alexander was there to help him. He’d wanted to see John off, but John had insisted that he stay away. It was too much of a risk.

He toed at the shards with his brand-new dress shoe.

 _Seven years of bad luck,_ John thought. _Just what I need._

The car honked from outside. Not impatiently, but gently. As per his father’s orders, John was sure.

John knew his roommate would clean up the mirror when he got home, no questions asked. Aaron was cool like that.

John raised himself to his full height, grabbed his keys, and headed out. And if he slammed the door a little harder than usual, that was no one’s business but his own.

 

* * *

 

John let himself get lost in the music blasting out of his headphones as they sped across the highway. He stared at his wrist, admiring how the clasp on his bracelet glinted in the sunlight.

 _All you need to save me?_ Tegan Quin sang. _Call. And I’ll be curled on the floor, hiding out from it all. And I won’t take any other call._

John’s entire being suddenly ached for Alexander.

If Alex was by his side, he would be able to handle this. Alexander had so much fire inside him, not even Henry’s darkness could put it out.

He desperately wanted to give Alexander a call, just to hear his voice before he descended into this hell, but he knew he couldn’t. The driver was listening. If the driver heard him talking to Alexander and put two and two together, if he told John’s father, all would be lost.

_And if I forget, or, god forbid, die too soon, I hope that you’ll hear me, know that I wrote to you._

John impatiently skipped to the next song. This was not a time for Tegan’s angsting.

“Sorry, Tegan,” he said under his breath.

“Tegan?” the driver asked.

John froze.

“Have you found a girl, Mr. Laurens? Is that who you were talking to?”

John felt like the walls were closing in on him.

 _But wait a minute_ , he could picture Alexander saying as he paced up and down John’s dorm, gesturing wildly with a pen, _why shouldn’t you say yes?_

Because it was ridiculous. Because it made him feel like he was drowning, sinking so far down into his seat that he’d never get out of it again.

_For Christ’s sake, Jack, think practically for once._

So much for the voice in his head being replaced by Alexander.

Hating every second, John paused to consider what his father always drilled into his head. _Think practically._ Saying he was dating Tegan Quin wouldn’t harm anyone. His father definitely wouldn’t know she who she was, much less that she was one of the biggest lesbians on the North American continent. It might get John’s father to lay off for a few precious minutes. Why not? If the only consequence was John feeling bad, why the hell not?

And in any case, there was a certain cruel satisfaction in using his father’s advice against him.

“Yeah, that’s right,” John said, sounding much more resolute than he actually felt. "I've found someone."

There was no need for John to clarify  _who._

As the driver droned on and on about how good it was that John had finally started heading towards settling down with a nice girl, the only thing that kept him from bursting into tears was the idea of Alexander laughing his ass off when he heard this story.

John would tell it like it was funny at the time. Alexander deserved that.

 

* * *

 

After what felt like hours, the car pulled up in front of a large mansion in Soho.

It was extremely aesthetically beautiful, with hydrangeas of all colors lining the fence outside. The building itself was brick, much like all the other buildings in this area, but it looked almost like it was glowing. There was none of the grime and dust that seemed to cover the rest of the buildings. John felt like had never realized how dirty everything in the city really was until he saw this house. Sure, the quality could be due to the wealth of the family that lived inside and how often they had it cleaned. But the building almost seemed to _glow,_ not from light, but from genuine happiness.

John felt drawn to this place. He couldn’t deny it. But he’d learned a long time ago what happened when he let himself think that way. He'd only end up regretting it if he let himself indulge.

The driver got out of the car and opened John’s door. He thanked him, stuck his hands in his pockets, and started to make his way toward the house.

The only thing that gave John the motivation to put one foot in front of the other was the knowledge that his siblings would be at the party. John felt like it had been an eternity since he’d seen them.

He pictured what they must look like inside the house. Polly would probably be jumping around the room, looking like a large marshmallow in a puffy tulle dress, with a smile as wide as the sun. Patsy would be watching her, standing close by, reserved like their father had taught her to be, but with eyes full of fire. She’d probably be in a soft pink dress, even though she detested the color. Their father always insisted on it.

And Harry and Jemmy, they’d be there too, probably checking out girls that were way too out of their league and loosening their ties as much as they could without getting yelled at.

John could see Harry very clearly in his mind’s eye. Even when he was a little kid, he’d looked more and more like their mother with every passing day. But he seemed to have a bit too much of their father’s temperament. John silently reminded himself to remember to check up on him, and make sure he wasn’t being too mean to Jemmy about how small and skinny he still was.

John had never been the best example for them. He’d been so consumed by his own struggles that more often than not, he’d forgotten to be the parent his siblings never had. John was the only one of them that clearly remembered their mother. She had shaped his life forever, and he had no idea what he would do without her lingering influence. His siblings had only ever had Henry to look up to. John had tried his best to fill his mother’s shoes, for their sake, but it was always difficult.

There was no time like the present, John reminded himself. Tonight, he could talk to them all, make sure they were doing alright. He had to. For his own sanity as well as theirs.

John made it to the door. He rang the doorbell and waited for the maid to answer it.

What was this senator’s name again? Henry had forced him to memorize them all years ago, but it was fair to say that he’d had other things on his mind recently. Was it Tyler? No, John was fairly sure that it started with an S…

Schneider? No, not that, but John was sure it sounded very similar. He wracked his brain, but the name remained stubbornly just out of reach.

Oh well. His father would be doing all the talking, anyway.

He almost laughed as he pictured what Alexander would say.

 _Maybe the guy’s name is Smiler,_ _and everyone in the house is gonna look like those clown things in the booths on Starship UK. Remember them, cariño? From the Doctor Who episode with the star whale? Eso sería absolutamente maravilloso, ¿no crees?_

The maid opened the door, and John pushed away all thoughts of Alexander. He didn’t belong here. There was still hope for Alexander. John promised himself that as long as he lived, Alexander would never have to suffer like this.

The maid ushered him inside without even asking his name, and John felt a burst of anxiety as he realized it was because she recognized his face. His father must already be here, then.

As if John had summoned him with the thought, his father appeared.

He always seemed shockingly small when John saw him after a long time apart. John knew he’d grow as the night went on.

“Sir,” John said, extending his hand.

Henry stared at him for a moment before shaking it in a crushing grip. “Jack. I have to say, I’m very glad you made the decision to come here tonight. It was the right one.”

John forced himself to nod.

Henry turned and led John down the hallway toward what was presumably the ballroom.

“Where are the kids?” he finally asked.

Without turning around, Henry answered him. “They stayed home, Jack. I wanted to make sure we could concentrate on getting you some fine connections tonight. Patsy's looking after them all.”

John felt all the energy get sucked out of his body. His chest heaved with the air he wasn’t allowing it to take in.

_Stay quiet stay quiet stay quiet stay quiet stay quiet_

“Of course, sir,” he choked out.

 

* * *

 

John had been here for two hours. Long ago, he’d forced himself to shove his hands in his pockets so he couldn’t scratch at his arms.

His father had introduced him to so many different politicians at this point that they blurred in his mind. He still hadn’t figured out the name of the senator hosting this dinner.

He felt every single place where his shirt collar touched his neck with painful clarity.

Currently, he was standing next to his father as he talked about nothing with another nameless politician.

“And who’s this?” the faceless man asked.

Henry jerkily turned to John only when he realized he could no longer ignore his son.

“Senator, allow me to introduce my son, Jack.”

The man smiled warmly and shook John’s hand. “Please, call me Philip.”

“Philip” stood back from John and stuck his hands in his pockets. John finally looked at him properly, and realized how kind his eyes were.

He slowly looked John up and down, but not in the way John’s father did it, like he was looking for things to ridicule and condemn. This man, Philip, looked at John like he was genuinely trying to figure out what kind of person he was. Like he actually gave a shit.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, my boy,” the man said. “From what Henry’s told me, I thought you must be some kind of delinquent. But I can see,” he looked pointedly at John’s left wrist, “that you’re a very fine young man.”

He said all this with a playful twinkle in his eye and the shadow of a smirk appearing on his lips.

John suddenly knew with complete certainty that Philip had recognized the pattern on his bracelet. For the first time since Henry had told him his siblings weren’t coming, John felt present and awake. The muscles in his face cramped with how hard he smiled at him.

Henry Laurens looked like he was trying to smile, but it was much more of a grimace than any genuine expression of happiness. This was obviously not the outcome he intended.

“Well,” Henry said, clapping John so hard on the shoulder that it took all of John’s willpower not to let his knees buckle. His father’s hand burned his shoulder like a brand. “Jack here has gone through some rough patches, but we’ve managed to straighten him out.” Henry’s fingernails dug into John’s shoulder. “For the most part.”

Realization dawned in Philip’s eyes. He stood straighter and shot Henry a piercing glare.

“You know what I think would be wonderful for your son?”

_Come on come on come on come on_

“Meeting my youngest daughter.”

And John’s heart shattered all over again.

How had he let himself think this man would stand up for him? Of course he wouldn’t. Maybe he didn’t recognize the pattern on the bracelet after all. Maybe he needed John’s father as a political ally.

 _Or maybe_ , a snide voice said from the corner of John’s mind, _he recognized the bracelet, has no ties to your father at all, and just felt like making you suffer._

John really wished he could punch that voice in the face.

Henry smiled like a shark. “That sounds like a splendid idea. I keep telling Jack he needs to find a proper young lady before they’re all snatched up.”

Philip laughed, and John suddenly felt very, very small. The two men were planning out his entire life while he was standing right next to them, unable to speak.

Philip stood on his tiptoes and glanced around the room. His eyes widened in recognition as he must have sighted his daughter.

“Ah! There she is,” he said. “Margarita!”

John couldn’t even get himself to turn and look at the girl as she presumably made her way over.

He felt someone at his right arm, but remained frozen with his eyes trained on a spot on the floor.

“This is Jack, sweetheart,” Philip said to his daughter. “Could you make him comfortable?”

A low-pitched voice next to John’s ear said, “Absolutely.”

John frowned. He had expected the girl’s voice to be high and simpering, just like the rest of the girls his father forced him to interact with at events like this.

Philip turned back to John’s father. “Let’s go see Congressman Muhlenburg while he still has a chance to speak with us, and leave these two kids to get to know each other.”

John felt a faint snort come out of the girl’s throat. He frowned. What the hell was going on?

Henry looked like Christmas had come early. “Of course.”

Henry made as if to snarl something in John’s ear, but Philip grabbed his arm before he could and started walking him away. “You know, Henry, I’ve always been fascinated with your legislation on the matter of…”

John kept his eyes trained on the two men as they walked out of earshot. His heart sank. He’d finally have to talk to this girl.

He forced a smile on his face and turned to look at her.

The girl, Margarita, was wearing a yellow dress as bright as the sun, and it shone starkly against her skin. She had much darker skin than her father’s, with short, curly hair messily falling in front of her face. Margarita inclined her head and John blanched. Was...was that a sidecut?

He opened his mouth to speak and Margarita burst out laughing. She didn’t laugh like the other girls did, all dainty and sweet. Her laugh was a belly laugh, pitched even lower than her normal voice, deep and throaty.

“Jesus fuck, you look like you’re gonna shit your pants!” Margarita said between guffaws.

John froze. “W-what?”

John didn't know what exactly he'd been expecting, but it was definitely  _not_ this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm such a liar. I said this was going to be two chapters, but now it's going to be at least three. Don't worry, it's coming soon!
> 
> Gee, I wonder who Margarita might be...
> 
> I haven't updated the character tags for a reason. I don't want to spoil anything. 
> 
> Please comment if you have any guesses for what will come next, or would like to say anything at all! Comments, as I've said many times, are 99.9% of my motivation for writing this. Even if you just want to keyboard smash, it would make my day.


	3. I Could Use Some Friends for a Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter: the Schuyler Sisters.

Margarita’s laughter subsided, but she kept biting her lip like it was taking all her willpower not to smile. “You really do, man. I’m a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them. Why the fuck are you so stressed?”

John was torn between trying to come up with an excuse and being completely flabbergasted that she kept cursing at him.

What ended up coming out of his mouth was, “What- I don’t- _did you say ‘Jesus fuck’?”_

Margarita looked at him like he was being ridiculous. “Um...yeah? Why?”

John furtively glanced over his shoulder to the place where he had seen his father disappear into the crowd. “You’re not scared your dad’ll hear?”

Margarita’s eyebrows slid down even further. “...No? Why would I- oh,” she paused, seemingly realizing something. “Is your dad a conservative asshole?”

John’s mouth was moving, but no sound was coming out. He had absolutely no idea what to say.

John would usually answer in a heartbeat, outlining every single stupid-ass piece of legislation his father helped pass, with Alexander there to finish the rant when he ran out of steam.

But he wasn’t John right now. At functions like this, he became a shell of himself, all parts of his brain shut down except the ones that knew how to smile and say “ _yes sir.”_ It was the only way to get through it without imploding. He forced himself to, in a sense, forget who he was.

But how was he supposed to answer this question? For all he knew, Margarita was trying to trap him. After all, his father had introduced them.

What eventually came out of John’s mouth was, “Uh...my dad is Henry Laurens, the senator from South Carolina?”

Margarita’s eyebrows shot up into her hair. She leaned in close enough that John could smell her perfume and asked, “Are you fucking with me?”

John shook his head.

Margarita grabbed his hand before he could protest. She dragged him further away from their fathers and out the ballroom door.

He could feel every place they were touching. Her hand was freezing, and it felt like a thousand needles were being stabbed into his hand every time her grip tightened.

“Hey, wait, what are you-”

Without turning around, she said, “Shut up and walk with me.”

Trying not to panic, he let her drag him along.

They ended up in what must have been the media room of the house. There was a huge flat-screen mounted on the wall and an overstuffed maroon couch on the opposite side.

She let go of his hand and he shoved it into his pocket as quickly as he could.

Margarita crossed the rug and threw herself down onto the couch, her dress crinkling loudly. “Sit.”

John knew she would most likely manhandle him onto the couch whether he liked it or not, so he sat on the other end.

He would ordinarily be in complete panic mode being in an enclosed space with an eligible girl, especially with an extremely convenient couch right under them. But some gut feeling told him this girl was different than the others Henry had pushed onto him.

He was about to try and strike up a conversation when his phone began to buzz insistently in his pocket. He fished it out and read what was on the screen:

 

**15 new messages from Mi Corazón**

 

John felt the ghost of a smile cross his face as he unlocked his phone to read the messages.

 

(9:24 PM) _Mi Corazón_ : Holy fuck, John, I just texted the Schuylers to see if they wanted to hang out because I’m a lonely piece of shit and I miss you, and Eliza said they’re at a fancy ass party??

(9:24 PM) _Mi Corazón_ : that their dAD IS HOSTING AT HIS FANCY ASS MANSION??

(9:24 PM) _Mi Corazón_ : their dad, SENATOR SCHUYLER OF NEW YORK??

(9:26 PM) _Mi Corazón_ : Peggy just asked me if you had freckles and long curly hair I think she sees you or smth???

(9:30 PM) _Mi Corazón:_ please text me if anything happens or your dad does anything or you feel uncomfortable or you need me to come there and murder him

(9:34 PM) _Mi Corazón_ : scratch that last one just

(9:34 PM) _Mi Corazón_ : It’s the Schuyler sisters’ house. I think Peggy is going to talk to you.

(9:36 PM) _Mi Corazón_ : i love you

(9:36 PM) _Mi Corazón_ : good luck

(9:37 PM) _Mi Corazón_ : just remember that you’re amazing and he’s a dickhead

(9:37 PM) _Mi Corazón_ : not even a dickhead he’s worse

(9:38 PM) _Mi Corazón_ : he’s like

(9:38 PM) _Mi Corazón_ : the king asshole of all the dickheads

(9:40 PM) _Mi Corazón_ : im gonna stop now

(9:41 PM) _Mi Corazón_ : XOXOXOXOXOXO

 

John wanted to laugh at Alexander’s over-the-top enthusiasm, but all he could manage was a spasm in his chest.

So that was the name he couldn’t remember. Schuyler.

John felt something in his heart twist as he realized that if he had only stayed in the ballroom, he could’ve met Peggy at last. He would’ve been safe, then. John had only met Eliza, but from his experience with her, he knew that all the Schuylers must be wonderful.

He realized, belatedly, that he must be in the room Alexander always talked about. The sleepover room, where Alexander and the three Schuylers would burrow under blankets and watch horror movies until dawn.

John wondered, could you have nostalgia for something that never happened to you? Because that’s what he was feeling. Such deep nostalgia and longing for that happiness and safety that it felt like a physical ache.

John knew he couldn’t ignore Margarita forever. He put his phone back in his pocket and focused his eyes on the pearl earrings she was wearing.

She folded her legs under her and asked, “Where did you say you went to school?”

Well. That was certainly not what he was expecting.

“I- I didn’t. I didn’t say.”

Margarita rolled her eyes. “Do you go to Columbia or not, John?”

 _When did she start calling him John?_ He had been introduced by his father to everyone at this party as Jack.

He realized he was gaping at her like a fish, and hastily closed his mouth. “Yeah, I do. Why?”

She glanced pointedly down at his wrist, and he self-consciously covered the bracelet sitting there with his other hand. Thankfully, she didn’t comment.

She reached deep into her purse, and John was suddenly reminded of Hermione Granger’s bottomless handbag. After pulling out a hairbrush, a wallet, three scones wrapped in napkins, and four different packs of gum, she triumphantly held up her phone. She started fiddling with the screen, and John was honestly concerned that she had forgotten he was in the room.

Her phone dinged with a new message, and her face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“You’re _Alexander’s_ John?”

John felt all the blood drain from his face. How could she know? Had she seen his phone? But wait, that didn’t make sense, he didn’t even have Alexander down as “Alexander” in his contacts.

John whipped his head around instinctively to make sure the door was closed, and stuttered out, “Wha- no, what- what are you talking about?”

She shoved her phone in front of John’s face and he couldn’t help but flinch back. He took the phone and saw that she had a group chat open on the screen:

 

 **schuyler + ham angst chat** **™**

 

Wait a minute. Schuyler?

Feeling like he was missing something, John turned back to the chat and started to read.

 

(9:04 PM) _hammy:_ guys sos i think i’m dying

(9:10 PM) _lizard:_  omg it was serious enough that you had to invoke the angst chat™???

(9:10 PM) _token straight:_ Eliza, you don’t have to use the ™ every time.

(9:11 PM) _lizard:_ ™™™™™™™™™™™ fight me ange

(9:14 PM) _You:_ guys, shut up.

(9:14 PM) _You:_ ham, what’s wrong?

(9:14 PM) _hammy:_ come over and comfort me I’m lonely and sad ehhhhh

(9:15 PM) _lizard:_ sorry, no can do. we’re at a party.

(9:15 PM) _You:_ what’s going on, ham man?

(9:16 PM) _hammy_ : john is at some stupid-ass political dinner that his satanic father dragged him to and im vvvv worried about him and I also miss him way too fucking much

(9:16 PM) _lizard:_ that’s such a weird coincidence bc our dad is throwing a dinner for all the big names in politics rn and we’re bored out of our minds

(9:16 PM) _token straight:_ You are both complete idiots.

(9:17 PM) _token straight:_ What’s John’s father’s name, Alexander?

(9:17 PM) _hammy:_ …..senator henry laurens (R-SC)

(9:17 PM) _hammy:_ why

(9:18 PM) _lizard:_ jfc, seriously? he’s one of the worst

(9:18 PM) _lizard:_ that asshat’s here all right

(9:20 PM) _You:_ holy fuck, Alex, does your man have freckles and long ass curly hair?

(9:20 PM) _hammy:_ yes??? what the fuck???

(9:20 PM) _hammy:_ peg????

(9:20 PM) _hammy:_ how the FUCK do you know that?!?

(9:23 PM) _hammy:_ hold on imma text him and see if he’s at your party this is so sick

(9:24 PM) _token straight:_ Alexander, no one has used “sick” like that since 2008.

(9:24 PM) _hammy:_ stfu let me live

(9:47 PM) _You:_ does he have an ace-gay bracelet?

(9:47 PM) _hammy:_ GHFJDKHFJDKSHJFKDSH YES WHAT THE F U C K

 

John felt like he was almost in a trance. That had to be Alexander in the chat. Which meant this had to be Peggy.

Having a connection to Alexander while being so close to his father simply didn’t register in John’s brain. It didn’t compute. It was completely incompatible with the gear shift he’d put himself in to survive the night.

“I thought I was just being kind,” the girl said, shrugging like this wasn’t a big deal. “My dad has an eye for dipshits in politics and usually grabs me or one of my sisters to help their kids out.”

She made a face like she had tasted something disgusting. “Your dear old dad is one of the worst. I’m sure you know that better than anyone. But Alexander’s hasn’t shut up about you for the past year. I kept telling him he should introduce us, it would’ve saved us a hell of a lot of trouble.”

“So, you’re…” John’s mouth felt very dry. “You’re Peggy?”

She grinned savagely at him.

“No,” she said dryly, “I’m Cleopatra.”

John ducked his head and huffed a laugh. It sounded more like he’d gotten punched in the stomach, even to his own ears.

“Hey, man, you alright?

John picked his head back up when he realized Peggy was staring at him with concern. He focused his eyes on the gold chain encircling her throat, and how it gleamed in the light.

Peggy took one look at him and started typing away on her phone. “I’m gonna see if Angie and Liza can break away and come join us back here.”

She put her phone down and directed her attention toward him again. “You sure you’re ok?”

John looked properly into her eyes for the first time. She jumped back slightly, and her red-painted lips parted in shock.

John looked away. He wasn’t surprised that she was appalled by what she saw in his eyes. Anyone who could get a taste of what was going on inside his head had a right to look like their world had been turned upside down.

His whole life, he had made sure never to let anyone see what was going on inside. Well, except for Alexander. Alexander had his own storm raging in his mind, his own battles to fight. It had taken John a long time to see that he wasn’t adding to Alexander’s troubles, but was easing them. How, he didn’t know. But John did know that Alexander was the only respite John had ever gotten from the voices in his head. When he was with Alexander, he didn’t feel alone. He knew it was selfish of him to be glad that Alexander suffered in the same ways he did. But he had never felt more understood than when he was with his boyfriend.

 _You know me,_ he would think, gazing into Alexander’s eyes. _It happened to you, too. You know what it’s like._

As John finally registered that Eliza and Angelica were on their way back here, he suddenly felt like his suit was much too tight. The last thing he wanted to do was be a burden on anyone. He knew that the other two Schuylers must be enjoying themselves; after all, it was a grand party, big and boisterous, and any _normal_ person would be out there with them, enjoying it.

“John?”

John just couldn’t handle the simplest of things. He got one email from his father and couldn’t even manage to lie to Alexander about it, he couldn’t even manage a smile to make his boyfriend happy, and Alexander had been texting the Schuylers about how worried and upset John had made him.

“Is he alright? Why is he scratching at his arm like that?”

And the kids. They would have absolutely loved this party. Polly had always wanted to wear a ballgown and dance in a real, honest-to-God ballroom. Even Patsy, who hated wearing dresses, would’ve loved it. John could picture how amazed they’d all be by the elegance of it all, even Harry and Jemmy.

“Do you _think_ he’s fucking alright?”

But because John couldn’t manage to be the son his father wanted, he had deprived his siblings of this. Why did he always make the wrong decisions? For God’s sake, Jack, why do you have to be so inconsiderate and _stupid?_ Don’t you know that everyone would be better off without you? Don’t you know that your mother always thought that, too?

“John.”

Someone was pinning his arm down. He tried to jerk away, but whoever it was held him strong. Tendrils of fire spread down his arm and chest from the spot where he was being touched.

“John!”

His father didn’t call him john his father didn’t call him john _his father didn’t call him john-_

Gasping for breath, he turned his head to look at the had that was seizing his arm. It was delicate, but strong, with a white lacy glove obscuring the skin from view.

At the sight of the whorls and tendrils and threads on it all weaving into an intricately beautiful design, John managed to calm down enough to speak.

“Sorry,” he choked out.

“Is he serious, Peggy?” a harsh, feminine voice above him said.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Ange, show some fucking sympathy for once in your life,” said a second voice.

“How am I supposed to know he’s not as bad as his father?” the first voice snapped.

“Both of you, stop it! The last thing he needs right now is you two bickering with each other.” That was a third voice, softer than the other two, but with a hidden steel.

“John?” the soft voice asked. “Can you look at me, sweetheart?”

John forced his gaze upward and found himself gazing into the impossibly powerful eyes of Eliza Schuyler. Her cheeks were dusted with glitter, her pale turquoise dress of the same rich silk as Peggy’s. Her sleek hair was pulled up into a bun, and John absentmindedly started thinking of how Alexander could get his hair to look like that, if he only paid a little attention to it. John would be happy to style Alexander’s hair for him, all soft and shiny, without one hair out of place-

“John?” Eliza prompted.

“Hi,” he said, rather dumbly.

“Are you good now?” the harsh voice to his left asked.

He moved his gaze up the hand still holding his left arm like a vice. It was connected to a deep brown, muscular arm, which was connected to a shoulder, which spilled into a dress the color of- how could he even describe that color? Burning embers? Tangerine, tinged with the faintest hint of the last touch of sunset on an evening sky?

“Hellooo?” the owner of the sunset dress said.

“Give him a break, Ange,” snapped Eliza. “He’s obviously coming out of a panic attack. I thought you’d have a little more tact after seeing me help Alexander through them.”

“Sorry,” sunset-dress-girl said, sounding genuinely regretful.

John forced himself to look up at her face. He was slightly taken aback by the harshness of her features, offset by her makeup. At first glance, she seemed to have what John would instinctively call “masculine features.” Why was he saying that? He tried to figure it out, but it was just something about her, something about the way her cheekbones were shaped, something to do with the harsh lines of her face, the shape of her forehead, the sharpness of her jawline…

He saw her lips move and vaguely registered the sound coming out of them.

“You in there?” she asked.

John blinked slowly. “Yeah. Sorry. I guess I blanked out for a second.”

“You think?” she remarked, not unkindly.

John felt the rusted cogs of his brain begin to turn again, and realized that this must be Angelica.

 _You only mess with Angie if you want to get your skull smashed in,_ Alexander had said once, with a dreamy smile on his face. _She’s like a fire. Insanely beautiful, insanely powerful, but cross her path and you won’t make it to the morning._

John suddenly realized that his cheeks were wet. He lifted the arm not being held down by Angelica’s vice grip to wipe them away, and realized his sleeve was pulled back. It was covered with angry red lines, criss-crossing over the old scars.

“You can let go of my arm, Angelica,” he said quietly. “I won’t. I promise.”

As soon as she did, he hastily yanked his right sleeve down.

“Well,” he said, forcing a smile that he was sure looked more like a grimace, “this certainly isn’t how I was picturing our first meeting to go.”

Peggy and Eliza chuckled, but Angelica stayed silent, watching him like a hawk.

For some reason, though, he didn’t feel uncomfortable under her gaze. He felt almost strengthened by it.

He turned to her, suddenly emboldened by the thought that he honestly had nothing left to lose. “Alexander’s always telling me how powerful you are. I can see he isn’t wrong.”

Some of Angelica’s fire seemed to lessen. She looked at Eliza and nodded once, almost like she was signaling her approval.

The tension in Eliza’s shoulders relaxed. She plopped down into the space Peggy had vacated, and pulled a blanket over from the side of the couch. She draped it around John’s shoulders almost absentmindedly, and John couldn’t help the way his breath hitched at the first gesture of motherly affection he’d received in years.

“I have an idea,” Eliza said, smiling at him. “How about we camp out here until the party’s over? I’ll text Dad, he won’t mind if we tell him what’s going on.”

John found himself too tired to insist that she keep his weakness a secret. He looked down at his leg and realized it was shaking, completely independently of the rest of his body.

Peggy threw herself down onto the floor, looking absurdly like she was wearing a marshmallow as her dress poofed around her.

She rolled her head backwards and stared upside down at John. “I’ve been dying to re-watch Meet Me in St. Louis. Whadda you say?”

Everything in John’s body was screaming at him to say yes, but he knew his father would never let him hear the end of it.

“I- I can’t. He’d never be ok with that.”

John didn’t even have to say who _he_ was for all the Schuylers to get a look of disgust on their faces. He felt like laughing when he saw that they each had the same exact expression.

But Eliza began to purse her lips thoughtfully. “Dad’s keeping he-who-must-not-be-named occupied for the time being. I’m sure we could find a way around him.”

A slow grin spread across Angelica’s face, and John was suddenly extremely glad that they were on the same side. “I’ll text Dad, and he’ll spin some story to you-know-who about how John was just so _enamored_ with Peggy that he _had_ to make arrangements with Dad to stay over here tonight.”

Peggy cackled. “That’ll definitely work. He’ll be happier than a pig in shit.”

“Honestly, Peggy,” Angelica said disapprovingly. “Why do you need to be so fucking vulgar?”

Despite himself, John laughed. The three girls immediately looked to him as the sound ripped out of his throat, and they all seemed to collectively heave a sigh of relief.

Wait. _Stay over here tonight?_

“Yeah, of course you can.” Peggy said. John blinked as he realized he had said that last bit out loud.

He swallowed nervously. “I wouldn’t- I don’t want to intrude or anything…”

Peggy rolled her eyes so hard John was legitimately concerned they were going to get stuck pointing toward the back of her head.

“Peggy, don’t do that,” Angelica chided. “You look like the girl from the Exorcist.”

“Good,” Peggy said with a grin.

“Anyway,” Eliza interjected, glaring at both of her sisters, “you can definitely stay over, John. The only thing that’ll happen is that Alexander will probably insist we send our driver to get him and bring him here. He loves our sleepovers.”

John’s head snapped up.

“Could Alexander really come here?” he asked, glancing between the three of them.

Angelica’s natural scowl brightened into an incredulous smile. “You really love him, don’t you?”

John blushed scarlet, and tried to stop himself from checking that the door was closed. He wrapped the blanket tighter around himself.

“Yeah, he said, playing with the beads on his bracelet. “I guess I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So several of you are probably wondering, “Hey, why did you have John notice all these random details about things and go off on irrelevant tangents?”
> 
> Because that has always been my experience of what panic attacks are like. There are the physical symptoms, mostly a great pressure on your chest. But mainly it’s like....it’s like the last thirty seconds of A Day in the Life by the Beatles, with the violins slowly crescendoing? You just keep obsessing over everything that has gone wrong or could possibly go wrong. And your brain (well, my brain) will do this thing where it tries to distract you? It doesn’t want to be aware of this thing that’s going on, so it makes you get distracted by really arbitrary things?
> 
> Anyway. I thought I should clarify that, if any of you were confused by it.
> 
> -
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading!! I might add another chapter to this, but otherwise, I have a lot of ideas in the works for new additions to this 'verse. I'd love it if you left a comment or kudos, and thanks again!


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